I found two lonesome frozen seeds and picked them up before the wind could steal them. I could feel on my skin that they weren’t breathing, so in my palm I held them tight. I carried them home as they thawed. I held the seeds at tables, I held the seeds in conversations, I crawled in my bedspread and fell asleep with the seeds in my fist and in my dreams. they sailed in a boat to an island of tree houses and tiny paper lawns. they digested flower petals and silt until viney little arms and legs sprouted from their bean bodies. They ran and swam and sun bathed until their viney legs gave and they crawled under an earthy blanket to sleep and dream of the warm bones of mother’s babies.
my eyes pryed open like rock filled pockets to capture the rays and drifting Z’s. The thought of seeds pulsed in my palm. I squished my hand around all slimey and sopping with soil. I opened up my fingers to find crumpled stems and tie-dye purple flower petals, regenerating and sprouting upwards.
